


Coming Home

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It bothers Sideswipe that no one has grieved properly and he takes matters into his own hands, one mech at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is me trying to cope with the cavalier attitude surrounding Bayverse Autobot deaths. And Sunstreaker's absence. 
> 
> Originally written/posted on livejournal 11/2011. This was one of the first Transformers fics I ever wrote. I can certainly tell ;) But anyway, I thought I would post it. There is some potential OOC-ness and I used the Bay concept that Que= Wheeljack (in my head, Wheeljack loves James Bond and that's the reason for the name change. I can't rationalize the frame and 'hair' and everything else, but I can the name!)

                Like the others, Ratchet has not had a chance to mourn, has not truly grieved. He has instead thrown himself into the mechanics and medicines of his Cybertronian and human patients. He knows that counseling should be a part of that as well, but how can he breach the subject when he himself isn’t ready to deal with it? Instead he occupies himself with the physical, the realm he has always excelled in.

                Autobots and humans alike are working close together, but distancing themselves as if any one of them may be taken away at any moment. Oh, Bumblebee clings, but doesn’t speak, and Lennox leads, but does not mention the lack of an overwhelming presence that is even more overwhelming in its absence. It is as if there is an universal agreement to just not talk about it.

                So it surprises and shocks Ratchet when Sideswipe reaches out to touch the medic’s wrist with light but determined digits. They have just finished Sideswipe’s recheck; his left leg sustained significant damage but has healed well, and Ratchet had been moments away from dismissing the warrior.

                “What is it?” Ratchet asks. “Something hurt?”

                Sideswipe’s head tilts to the side, and Ratchet can’t help but remember when he first met Sideswipe and his brother – brash and brave, and so very young.

                “No. Just…” he hesitates just briefly. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

                Ratchet rears back, and his optics blink a few times. “Check up on… me?”

                The head tilts a fraction further. Sideswipe’s optics have not moved from Ratchet’s face, and his gaze is heavy, making the medic fidget just slightly, wanting to look away but unable to do so.

                “You’ve known… knew Ironhide for longer than Prime’s been Prime,” Sideswipe explains. As soon as the Name is mentioned, Ratchet begins shaking his head.

                “Everything’s fine, Sideswipe. Get on out of here and see me back in a week’s time…”

                The hand on his wrist tightens, and Ratchet looks down having forgotten it was still there. “Let me go, Sideswipe.”

                Sideswipe shakes his head, a quick, frustrated motion, but releases Ratchet. “Don’t… he’s gone, and he shouldn’t be, but it’s ok to acknowledge that,” Sideswipe says, looking up at Ratchet earnestly.

                “Right - acknowledged! And now I’m moving on!” Ratchet retorts, the volume of his voice raising. He moves to turn away, but Sideswipe reaches out again. He doesn’t make contact, seeing Ratchet’s warning glare, but hops up and hovers over Ratchet’s shoulder as he begins placing tools away.

                “That’s not what I meant! Come on, Ratch. Everyone’s being all silent, but Ironhide’s gone! There’s not even a shell left, and we’re just supposed to continue on like nothing’s happened?” Sideswipe sounds hurt and frustrated, and Ratchet sympathizes, just a little.

                “We have work to do,” Ratchet says, speaking to the tool tray in front of him. “We’ve been at war for millennia, Sideswipe. We can’t afford to stop and take time when we… when our side loses a soldier.”

                Sideswipe grabs Ratchet’s shoulder and whips him back around to face the looming warrior. “We didn’t just lose a soldier! We lost Ironhide! We lost Jazz and Wheeljack, and a Prime!”

                Ratchet violently throws Sideswipe’s hand off and then shoves a finger into Sideswipe’s faceplates, causing him to back away a step. “Sentinel was no longer a Prime!” he snarls.

                “There are so few of us left,” Sideswipe replies softly. “It hurts, Ratch. It didn’t use to but it does when it’s just us few and there are so many out there we know nothing about…” Sideswipe’s optics flick upward through the ceiling of the hangar and beyond.

                Ratchet reins in his ire at Sideswipe’s forlorn look. The look has been coming more and more frequently especially now after Ironhide’s passing.

                “Sideswipe, I’m sure your brother’s fine…”

                It’s Sideswipe’s turn to shake his head in denial. “I’m not worried about him. Sunny can take care of himself. I’d know if…” he shakes his head again. “I’m worried about us,” he says, pointing to himself and then to Ratchet.

                “Optimus hasn’t said more than ten words all day. The Wreckers keep getting into fights and Bumblebee has all sensors trained on those humans of his! And you! You haven’t stepped foot out of here since the day it happened, acting like a drone, like nothing’s even happened!”

                Ratchet abruptly shoves his hands forward, impacting against Sideswipe’s chassis to send the warrior back a surprised few feet. “What would you have me do?” Ratchet shouts. “Scream and yell and fall into a heap of scrap metal? Yes, I miss Ironhide! I miss Wheeljack and Jazz! It’s not the same without them, and they can never be replaced! We’ll never see an invention of Wheeljack’s blow up again! We’ll never listen to Jazz playing that obnoxious noise he calls music again! We’ll never hear Ironhide’s… voice… talking…” Ratchet’s own voice begins fritzing, static fuzzing up the edges of the words.

                “We’ll never… “ Ratchet trails off, all the emotions he had been shunting off to deal with later, suddenly demanding they be dealt with _now_. “Never again…” Unconsciously, he draws in on himself, shoulders slumping and hands clenching in defeat. “Oh. Oh Primus…” he whispers, the grief hanging high above his head dropping down with a crushing weight.

                Ratchet barely notices when Sideswipe moves forward, slipping his arms around Ratchet’s shoulders and pulling him in close. “They’re gone…” Sideswipe whispers, the words falling brokenly into Ratchet’s audios. Ratchet clutches at the warrior’s sides, a quiet wail muffling itself in Sideswipe’s neck.

                “They’re gone, and Sunny’s so far away, and I _do_ worry about him because he gets stupid when the bond’s thinned out and it’s been so long…” Sideswipe says in a tumble of words and agonized sound. He shudders, his armor plates clacking together.

                “You stupid…” Ratchet bites out. “You couldn’t have just left me alone, could you?” He clings tighter to Sideswipe, the tremors vibrating into his own frame. He’s lost so many of those he’s loved, but at least one remains, quivering in the medic’s arms.

                “You were hurting. You just didn’t know it,” Sideswipe says, pressing close, chassis warm and comforting against Ratchet’s.

                “So were you,” Ratchet says lowly, and Sideswipe doesn’t reply which is answer enough. Ratchet feels raw, overcome and uncertain. Moments ago, he had had a clear processor. Now it is riddled with errors, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor and falling into oblivion is the mech hanging on to him as tightly as he is clinging to Sideswipe.

                They probably would have continued to lean on each other if a noise at the door hadn’t prompted Sideswipe to push Ratchet away, whirling around with blades out. Ratchet sways at the shove, and his optics take a moment to reorient themselves on the red and blue colors of their Prime watching them gravely.

                Sideswipe’s blades retract with an overly loud ‘snikt!’, and he bobs a little in place, posture screaming embarrassment. “Can I do something for you, Prime?” he asks, overly proper.

                Optimus’s gaze lingers on Sideswipe and then the Autobots’ medic. “Yes, I think you can,” Prime says slowly. “I’ve been considering a memorial service for those Autobots lost in the recent battle. Please inform Lennox and ask him for a list of the names of the men lost so we may honor them as well.”

                Sideswipe straightens in response, a sharp nod showing his acceptance of the task. A small bit of tension leeches away from his frame at Optimus’ news. Ratchet now understands that this was what Sideswipe had known they all had needed – time taken to acknowledge and mourn.   

                Sideswipe makes a motion to leave, but Optimus raises a hand and the warrior stops. “Also… Prowl recently made contact. He and several others should be landing by the end of the month. Sunstreaker will be among them.”

                Optimus watches Sideswipe carefully, expectantly. From behind, Ratchet observes Sideswipe still completely for several moments before looking over his shoulder at Ratchet. The smile that adorns his faceplates is blinding in its intense joy, and Ratchet’s spirits lift a little. They’ve lost so much and their numbers are few, but hope still remains.

                An answering smile blooms across Ratchet’s faceplates; another loved one is coming home.      

               


End file.
